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BRIAN BORU: 



A POEM. 



BY DAVID EEIDY. 



ST. LOUIS: 

PTIBLISHEX) FOK THE AUTHOR. 
1867. 



THE ADDRESS 



BRIA]N[ BORU: 



A POEM. 



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BY DAYID EEIDT. 



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S ST. LOUIS: 

PUBIilSHED FOR THE AXTTHOB. 

1867. 




TS 2C1^ 



-]^55 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1867, 

BY DAVID EEIDY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the U. S. District Court of the 
Eastern District of Missouri. 



PREFATORY REMARKS. 



The following lines, the first effort of the author's pen, 
are submitted to the indulgent reception and perusal 
of the Irish Public. In choosing this branch of learning, 
which he has adopted for his profession, the author has 
no other object in view than the ultimate vindication 
of Irish character from malicious aspersions. Knowing 
well the power of Poetry in every age to arouse the soul 
of nations, to assert successfully their rights, and vindi- 
cate their social condition, he has spared no pains to 
make its merits ancillary to Irish honor. The future, 
however, and not the present, he would beg to be the 
judge of the degree of his success ; but certe he has com- 
mitted himself irrevocably; and begs leave to say here 
that he will publish this summer his "Exctjksus in 

HlBEKNIA," 



THE ADDRESS OF BRIAN BORU, 



My brave Milesian, proud, undaunted host, 
"Who stand, all Mars, on Clontarf's famous coast, 
In soul prepared to vindicate our Isle, 
A crown of glory tWs day we shall twine ; 
A wreath of green, for chasing down the Danes, 
And expelling the tyrant from our plains, 
Shall grace the martial brow of Erin's sons. 
And eternize their names for time to come. 
The proud majesty and the ancient fame 
Of Erin's character we must maintain; 
Her rights we must defend, e'en with our lives, 
And stay her independence 'gainst the " Whites,' 
Who dare, thus freebooting, invade our shores; 
But death and slaughter shall punish our foes ; 
Destruction of our foe shall come to grace 
Our mighty prowess in the battle's chase ; 
When Erin's son the shining sabre wields. 
And aims a direfal thrust against the fiend. 
The consequence resulting from the strife 
May crown our glory with the laurel's smile. 
And richly paint our virtue, might and tone, 
For Erin's rights, her liberty and love. 



ADDRESS OF 



Yes, golden crowns shall grace the martial brow 
Of Ireland's sons who fight against the foe. 
Outpouring on his head, profane and dire, 
Betaliation for his deeds, dark dyed, 
Like eagle pouncing on his victimed prey, 
To tear the recreant that dare gainsay, 
You will pounce down upon this pirate horde, 
And discomfit the foe that dare oppose ; 
Impetuous, eager, chafing, earnest, fierce, 
Your will transfix your foes with willing spears; 
Defending nationality and peace, 
Against invaders who our nation fleece. 
We fight for Liberty's all glorious cause, 
And Erin's rights against the Danish laws, 
Upholding, as of yore, our nation's fame. 
Her independence, liberty and name. 
We swear upon ourselves a curse, to free 
Our land from slavery, or death to fee. 
Down on all Europe, Scandinavian hordes. 
Like swarms of locusts, have made dire inroads 
Infesting every land, they booty drive 
Away, but Famine doth their victims rive. 
The mighty prowess of the Gauls in strife. 
When Mars did rage, and incline to their side; 
Intwining laurels on their victories. 
Is now a blank contending 'gainst those fiends. 
Our neighbors of Britannia are laid low, 
And bow to tyrants grim e'en at their door; 
Their ancient chivalry is not of proof. 
When northern pirates are on them let loose. 
Poor fellows ! sad is their fate and condition. 
Like wretches truckling to those myrmidons, 



BRIAN BORTJ. 



Subjecting thus their pride and boasted main, 

If any e'er they had to frowning Danes. 

But westward, too, tyranny reins its sway, 

As well as empire tends its route that way. 

The Muses' light, the lamp of fame and lore, 

They have extinguished, and the oil outpoured 

Upon the barren sward, to meet the fate 

"Which Destiny has wound where treads the Dane. 

The frowning cloud obscuring heaven's rays, 

Yeils our horizon, and forebodes dark days 

To Erin's liberty and future time. 

Unless dispersed by Clontarf 's bright sunshine. 

The Western Isle alone its freedom hath 

Not long, if this day turns 'gainst us fraught, 

Tho' yet with hope that that bright shining blade 

"Which you erect can Erin vindicate. 

The northern raven croaks death 'long the vale, 

And dire destruction to the Scotic name; 

Our boasted valor is now on issue. 

And Ireland's glory refuges on you; 

The Isle of Saints doth pray unto your soul 

To vindicate her, or her name is o'er; 

Her civil liberty and character. 

Abroad notorious for war's hardihood. 

Are being imperilled while we thus do prate. 

But — to the field! and every tyrant scathe. 

The famous Bangor's Monastery 's razed. 

And Gorman, with his trethren, are all staked. 

The servants of the Lord, who chant his praise, 

Are one and all along the nations chased. 

The anchoret, far in the mountain lone. 

Experiences safety, nor hence more 



ADDRESS OF 



Offers unto the Lord his mead of praise, 

"While Desolation stalks along the vale. 

The Isle of Saints a change experience, 

And Profanity usurps Religion; 

The Powers of Darkness are heing loosed, and seize 

Upon mankind, and on them vengeance wreak; 

But Innocence a sacrifice doth fall 

Unto their fury, and on Death imploring call 

To end their grievances and close their life ; 

But we stand idle, nor assail the ''whites.'* 

That hand of pirates sail 'round every shore, 

And infest humankind with ruin sore; 

Nay, marshalled in the distance, lo! their hordes 

Advance to conquer and to rout your force; 

Ignoring justice, right and law, 

While thus led on hy Spoliation's maw. 

They cast a gloating eye upon your plains; 

But this day will decide them yours or theirs. 

The pride of Scotia's sons in war and arms, 

"Which long they have upheld with courage warm, 

In hattle's strife suhduing the sturdy foe. 

And lecturing with deeds, not words, they show, 

A bias to assail and vanquish in the field. 

But never while this arm the sahre wields. 

Arise ! and conjure Heaven's gracious name, 

And kind protection 'gainst the savage Dane — 

That power and might our willing sahres brace. 

To brandish defiance 'gainst that race. 

Inspired with mem'ry of heroic deeds, 

"When Scotic kings charged on the battle-field; 

You will esteem your character, and merge 

This clique of pirates in the ocean's surge. 



BRIAN BORU. 



Our nation is in thrall; tlie foe dotb stand 

Before the gates, and brandishes the lance, 

Defiant of that power you boast to wield 

'Gainst Ireland's foe in every battle-field. 

But come, my brave Dalcassian sons! 

You who ne'er flinched when Erin called you to 

Her vindication; but first smote the foe, 

And laurels won; your sword unsheathe once more 

That by your aid, and 'neath your auspices, 

The 23d of April may our country bring 

Immortal praise, and leave upon the face 

Of Victory the impress of your fame. 

Arise, and fly unto the battle's line, 

And bear upon the invaders of your Isle, 

Unsheathing vengeance, ire, and martial rage, 

Dire wield this instrument against Brudair;* 

That Clontarf 's action may enemies teach 

To dread our arms, or bear the consequence ; 

Eor ne'er let it be heard while we do live 

That tyrants dared our liberty infringe ; 

But, fighting stern in the battle's van, 

"We slew the foe, and fifty battles won.t 

Now on our arms, and on their stern might 

Devolves the sacred duty to fight. 

And preserve whole, entire and sacrosant. 

The Isle of Saints in freedom's character; 

For sooner would we wish untimely graves. 

And earth receive us in her hollow caves. 



* The Danish General. 

t In reference to the fifty battles won by Bryan Bora over the ene- 
mies of his country. 



10 ADDRESS OF, ETC. 



Than for a moment brook the tyrant's rule 

To bind our liberty to servitude. 

Your freedom stay, as heretofore you did. 

And Erin's land of foul invaders rid 

Of tyrants, invaders, and buccaneers, 

Of ruffians, rumpads, pioneers; 

Of Satan's rule, the Isle of Saints rescue, 

Or Death and Fate precarious list you. 

Deep breathing fire against your country's foe, 

Mute as if voiceless 'gainst the Dane you go, 

Designing death and slaughter on the knave 

"Who would your peace disturb, or slur your name, 

Invoking on ourselves the fate of death. 

Who vrould have yielded to alien behests, 

Or sanction foreign rule to rule our race. 

No! raise the cry of war — down with the Dane! 

Down with the tyrant and his ministers! 

Down with his laws corrupt and sinister! 

Down with his policy — oppressive, cruel — 

That would chain Liberty to Servitude! 

Down with all humbugs that would hold the reins 

Of nation's conduct, and freedom impair! 

Down with fiends who dictate 'gainst our will ! 

Down with all devils who our race would quell ! 

Down with our foes who stand in freedom's way ! 

And Erin bless our efibrts for the fray. 



THOUGHTS ON HOME. 



Sweet Erin! nurse of all tliat's love and dear, 
"Where childhood passes like a golden dream, 
Bright as the orange of the western sky, 
"When pale Hesperus lights his taper nigh, 
And 'lumes the forest, mountain and the grove. 
To shed on woodland nymphs wherewith to rove. 
How oft have I, during the lingering day. 
In foreign clime, thought on thy suhlime lay. 
When summer smiles awoke heneath the note 
Of music sweet, and purpled at the stroke. 
Thou gavest to the genial Harp, that warmed 
Life into mirth, and ev'ry bosom charmed; 
Here in my closet do I, hut in vain 
Attempt to sing, concerning thee, a strain, 
As if befriended by the Muses' lore, 
I could thy vindication sow and love. 
Or hope from the ancient shrines of sublime bards, 
Who sung thy beauties glittering as the stars, 
Evoke the genial fire that gave them song, 
Then on the tyrant would I lay the thong; 
But thus, by fate decreed, we must forbear 
This flagellation, although not through fear; 



12 THOUGHTS ON HOME. 

Nor wield the soul-inspiring whetted sword 

Of Poesy against that tyrant horde; 

Yet we will hope that Fortune, after all, 

May grow remorseful of thy thrall, 

And her remind of duty to call home 

Unto thee, Erin, what is hut thine own. 

But Fortune, though she frown, and thee to hate, 

May continue as she has done of late. 

Yet thee I warn of forthcoming joy, 

"When th' era of thy slavery 's past hy ; 

When Justice takes Injustice, and doth lay 

The penalty, then, Erin, is thy day ! 

For Heaven may thy fated doom take heed. 

And quick undo what Destiny doth knead. 

Cognizant of thy loyalty in the past, 

Now pleased gracious thy condition to cast; 

But till that happy moment doth arrive, 

Cease not to agitate, and soul inspire 

The rising generation to revere 

The em'rald Flag, as glorious and dear. 

The mind conceived, coercion cannot hold, 

Nor obviate the birth of feeling bold ; 

But with the indignant sword of Justice riven, 

Give way before the edge of patriotism, 

The proud affection and the issue forth 

Of martial genius brandishing the bolt 

Of nationality against tyrants. 

Invaders, foes and Saxon miscreants; 

But light, too, in the interim must spring forth, 

Of eloquence and statesmen like the north, 

"Which in the sombre night illumes the earth, 

Pour forth their rays and catch of freedom's breath. 



THOUGHTS ON HOME. 13 

Rekindling in the nation a proud flame, 

To vindicate their liberties, and gain 

For Erin honor, glory and renown, 

As Grattan did when tyrants he put down. 

Oh, lovely Island, blest in nature's gifts, 

But cursed by Fortune and the Saxon hilt, 

One ray of hope could thy brave sons but glean. 

Or prospect of success, the foe they'd clean 

Out from thy plains, as once they did before. 

At Fontenoy, when on the Lion they bore . 

But we may teach ourselves to make the best 

Of the worst circumstances, and to rest 

Contented in our present lot, and wait 

An opportunity to foil our fate ; 

Cheered on by many prospects, which the mind 

Can discern bright through the whirling wind 

That blows on nations, and destines their lot. 

An evil gale that sometimes good blows not. 

Peculiarly charactered are mankind. 

And iron-hearted who would thus consign 

To everlasting woe a noble race. 

And crush their national outpouring, base ; 

!N"or abide by the law which Nature draws 

Upon her statute book, to curb man's maw. 

Oh, man 's accurs'd! Would that thine empire ne'er 

Had gone beyond the region of Hell's fire, 

ISTor frailties of weak man inflamed with false 

Ambitious passions. Nations may proud waltz 

In their own prosperity, and enshrine 

Their existence in days of golden shine ; 

But close unto th' Elysian fount, where peace 

And prosperity take their rise, a lease 



14 THOUGHTS ON HOME. 

The Devil took in the dark days of yore, 
And holds his estate since upon the sore, 
Of human happiness; hut man, at war 
"With his own nature, failed to check his car. 
The soul depraved, within its domieil, 
Its sympathy enlisted 'neath the vile 
And corrupt flag which waves upon his rule, 
Endorsing thus one man man's servitude. 
Ah, Golden Age! thou art gone hy, alas! 
Nor hope we to call hack thy days en massey 
Or several, since Discord holds the sway, 
And dissensiously Wisdom dare gainsay. 
When Erin's sons can Englishwise he moved, 
And, traitorous, recant what once they loved, 
Endorsing Castlereagh's perfidious hill, 
To vote an union, and their country sell; 
But towering is the will of Erin's soul, 
And swelling to a surge, fain to control 
Within its depth the tyrannical Lion 
And Unicorn — nations of them tire. 



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